A Chain Mail of Two Colours
by Elenhin
Summary: This is a sequel to 'A Two Colour Chain Mail,' and is mostly that tale from Faramir's point of view. Reading that story first is recomended.


Author's note: In my tale 'A Two Colour Chain Mail' I took up one thing that has been said about Boromir and Faramir. That between the brothers there were great love, and that Boromir protected Faramir. Well since Faramir also sought to protect Boromir, it made me think about just exactly how far would one brother go to keep the other safe. The answer I came up with is a bit to far, Faramir risked his own life. This is more or less the same tale, but told the way he saw it.

It will help to read 'A Two Colour Chain Mail' before you read this.

Thank you all for taking the time to read this.

It has been noticed that my tales contains the occasional spelling error, or not so occasional at times. I am sorry about these, and I do try to avoid them. I simply am a perpetual spelling disaster. Please take no offence. Besides, it can be considered an act of kindness to support your local spelling disaster.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

* * *

A Chain Mail of Two Colours

They were out on a patrol. Two months inside the citadel and Aragorn was chafing. It was important work, and he did not mind it, but he was not used to being coped between stone walls.

Legolas and Gimli had suggested that he should try to get away from the city before his temper flared, at anyone it should not flare at. The tedious work had been growing on his nerves and he had spoken more sharply than he intended with a few people. He had snapped at the Elf and the Dwarf that they should stop their petty arguing, and at once they had joined against him. Saying that if he did not leave the city for some time they would tie him up and lock him in his chamber.

Arwen had agreed with them and offered to locate a strong rope.

Frodo and Sam was still recovering and so they had stayed behind, enjoying the company of Arwen.

Merry and Pippin had both begged to come along as they wished to prove how good soldiers they were. It was hard to refrain from laughing at their enthusiasm. The only reason Aragorn did not was because he did not want to hurt their feelings.

Besides that fact, both of them had fought valiantly. Merry had gone against the Witch King. In defence of his Lord and Lady he had buried his blade in a creature of pure terror.

Pippin had no less valiantly gone against the Lord Steward of the city, and while Denethor was not the Witch King, it took courage to go against him. Pippin had felled Orcs, and he had saved the life of Aragorn's Steward by his quick act.

Aragorn was impressed by that act. He knew how much the Halflings had loved the noble Boromir, older brother to Faramir. Boromir had always kept an eye on the smaller creatures, lent a cloak to a shivering form. Carried them when crossing water that would have reached over their heads, and not only ferried them across. He would set them down again completely dry as he had sheltered them from even the spray.

Boromir had adored the _little ones_ as he called them. He had described Faramir as his own little one, his darling little brother, and he had amused the Hobbits with endless tales about him. Enough tales that the other had felt as if they had known him since before.

It was Faramir who was the last member of the party now. It was he who had devised an excuse that allowed the King to leave the city. After all a King was expected to inspect the land that went into his Kingdom.

Aragorn had insisted that he joined them, and he had tried to decline. Claiming he did not wish to interfere with the friends as they enjoyed themselves.

In the end it was Pippin's claim that it would be much more fun if he was along that convinced him.

He showed the same care for the two Hobbits that Boromir had done, and in some ways he reminded them all so much of the big warrior. He was much more quiet than his brother. He listened when the others spoke, but rarely took part in the discussions. Instead of his brother's loud laughter there was a shy smile that one risked missing if one was not looking at him, but it was a warm and friendly smile.

It was strange to have him where Boromir had been, and sometimes it was clear that he felt like he was a poor substitute. No one was more aware of how loud his brother's presence had been. How he could fill a vast room with his being. For it was Faramir whom always found himself in his shadow.

How could that small smile fill the space where Boromir's booming laughter had been. When he thought of that the smile would fade, and he would turn his eyes down. At those times the others could almost feel his silence, for then it was a silence out of sadness. At those times Pippin always had some question that he demanded an answer for, or he would call their attention to an odd-looking stone. Drawing the attention away from Faramir and allowing him the time he needed to compose himself again.

Aragorn had to admit he was surprised to find that trait in Pippin. To be able to do a thing like that so smoothly, but Pippin had learned much from Boromir. Not the least to look out for his companions. He treated Faramir as a friend, as he treated all of the others, and so Faramir responded to that.

He even laughed out loudly over a joke Merry had made. So at ease was he after the supper they had cooked over the fire.

"Did you learn that from the Rohan Riders, master Merry?" He asked.

"I did." Merry sounded confused that he would know a Rohan joke of how the Gondorian soldiers could not hold their drink. "How could you tell?" As always curiosity won over the Hobbit.

"The exact same joke, with the exception of it being directed at the Rohan, is very popular amongst Gondor's soldiers." He explained. "One army likes to make fun out of the other."

"That makes sense I suppose." Merry decided.

Pippin was distracted enough that he was for once silent. The young Steward of Gondor had laid out his bed roll and was now stripping his armour.

Neither of them were heavily armed, but there was a chance that they might run into Orcs and so it was better to be prepared. Faramir had his bow, a full quiver and his sword. Aragorn wore his chain mail openly. Gimli had his axe and Legolas his bow. Both the Hobbits carried small swords. If there was any trouble the group was more than able to deal with it.

Now as Faramir had bunched up his cloak for a pillow, and stripped of his leather shirt, Pippin could see that he to wore a mail shirt. Small metal rings linked together to form a protective shirt. As a bowman he did not wear the heavier armour that would only hinder him.

"Look at that." Pippin pointed at the mail.

Most of the rings was of a slightly dull metal, but there was a large patch where the rings gleamed like polished silver. It was on the left side, wider than the length of Faramir's own hand, and ran halfway up his chest. Another smaller patch was covering the right part of his chest, and then there was a last patch that ran down from his left shoulder.

"It is a mail." Faramir offered.

"But look at the colour." Pippin squealed. "There are two different colours in it."

Now the others had looked at them, all remembering how Boromir had worn a chain mail that was two-coloured.

"It had to be repaired a few times." Faramir shrugged. Well aware that everyone was looking at him.

Pippin had crawled closer and was fingering the seam between the two colours.

"Why not make it the same colour?" Merry asked. "Surely you could have gotten the other ones replaced again." He wanted Faramir to talk. To tell them if this had anything to do with Boromir's mail.

"It is a bit too complicated for me to explain." Faramir said, hoping no one would press the subject.

"Boromir told us why his had a different colour in it." Pippin said quietly. "Does it have to do with that?"

"It does." Faramir nodded.

"Is that the mail you had then?" Pippin was still fingering the rings, but now he was looking straight at Faramir.

"Yes." He turned his eyes down and ran his hand over one patch. "It was damaged as well. And there was no more spare rings. I thought that at least one of us should have a whole one, and it was more important to keep him safe."

Faramir frowned, he had just been to the supply wagon, for new rings to mend mail. His mail had a few tears in it, and so did his brother's.

* * *

_There was however no rings to mend them with. He had spoken with the man in charge of the supplies. They were depleted, not only rings. They were short on just about everything. _

_He had at least been able to find the tools needed for mending mail. There was no spare rings to be found, but two ruined ones could be made into one fit to wear. His was made of rings duller in the colours than his brothers, but that was of no matter. Boromir would not notice that detail, and if he did. Faramir would merely say that there had been no other rings. _

_He hid away while he worked, for he knew none of the others would approve. He knew he was putting himself at a risk, but he was more likely to be safe than Boromir was, and if naught else he had sworn an oath to protect his brother. Had sworn to the Lord Steward himself that he would keep him safe. He would not break that oath, no matter what. _

_Thus he used rings from his mail and replaced the broken ones of his brothers. When he was done he hid away the remains of his in his pack, and then offered Boromir his mail back._

_The praise he received for his craftsmanship warmed his heart with pride. Boromir was proud of him. _

_Later when the warm blood pored from the gash in his side to drench his clothes he felt ashamed. For he had not been able to avoid the enemy blade, and now Boromir would know of his deed. _

_He was unable to rise from the ground that was reddened with his blood, and thus he was lifted into the arms of a soldier. One who told him that he would be safe with his brother in just a moment now._

_Then he was placed in his brothers arms, and, oh, how he had dreaded this. Ever since he had first felt the blade tearing his flesh apart._

_Boromir whispered soothing words to him as he tended him, but he could tell the very second Boromir discovered his missing mail. For that second there was a hitch in his breathing, and his touch changed slightly. Was just noticeable more rough with the brother that had failed him. _

_He had asked the question if his brother was wrought with him, for he needed to let him know that he had only sought to keep Boromir safe. _

_He had known the demand to know where his mail was would come, and so he answered truthfully. He would never tell his brother a lie. He had taken the oath never to do it again, and there were times he would have given himself for just the hope it would keep his brother safe, but he had not._

_He had ached to do so, had wept because he could not, and Boromir had soothed him and wiped the tears away. Grateful that his brother kept his word._

_Boromir had ordered a new mail crafted for him._

_Boromir had spoken to the Steward about the fact that they had run out of supplies. Something that had upset the Steward. An old Commander himself he knew what it meant. They had not been short since then._

_What more was that Faramir had been sent home on leave to recover, and his father had greeted him with kind words._

_Denethor had welcomed him home, and then he had sighed. "I bade you to keep your brother safe, and as he is the heir it is not a light oath, he must be kept safe. But never did I wish you to sacrifice yourself for him thusly. You are my son as well and I would not lose you."_

_Those words had warmed his very heart. His stern father was truly happy that he had survived the ordeal. _

_It made him feel like it had been worth the new scar he now bore. His brother had been kept safe, and his father was actually proud of his courage. Yet he had given his solemn oath that he would never go to that extent again, and he would keep his word._

* * *

"Did he not have a new one made for you?" Pippin clearly remembered that Boromir had said that.

"He did, but I lost it." Faramir smiled faintly as Pippin demanded an answer to a new question.

"How does one lose a mail shirt?"

"I lost it by falling into a river during one battle. I had to give it up or stay at the bottom."

"Oh." Merry could see how giving up the mail was the preferable choice. "I see why you preferred getting rid of the mail."

Aragorn laughed behind them, amused at Merry's expression.

"I have thrown mail away for that very same reason." He grinned. "It is much preferable."

"I am not a bad swimmer." Faramir smiled. "But not good enough to swim in armour." He ran a hand over the linked rings. "I kept this one even as Boromir had the other one made for me, because it is always well to have a spare one. I mended it with the first new rings we received, and thus there is two colours in it." He looked up at them. His eyes were sad, but he had not shut himself away. "I know Boromir kept the one I mended for him, because he always did blame himself for it. He kept it to remind him of it. This one is a reminder to me as well."

He was silent for a moment. Turning his face away from the others and was looking at something far away in the distance when he again spoke. "Mayhap some would think it queer to use a mail shirt as a reminder, yet both of us chose to do so. I did it to remind me that no matter what I did, I could not always keep him from harm."

Knowing how Boromir had died the others fully knew what he meant. There was not one of them that did not think that they had failed the big man in some way. He was the only one who had been lost on that quest. Some would say that it was not bad, only one lost out of ten, but how could either of them see it that way.

Especially since Faramir was sitting with them, mourning his brother. Faramir who had lost all of his closest family in the war, who bore the knowledge that his father had been driven mad at the end. Even worse, that he had come out of that madness only to realize that he had placed his youngest son on a pyre to burn alive. To see what he had done to his son, and then to die in flames.

Faramir in his turn had been roused enough by the events that he had come out of his fever long enough to open his eyes. Only to see the flames consume his father.

Aragorn was impressed that he managed to function with these horrible memories, but his Steward was in many ways a strong man. One that was not easily broken, and now he had friends that would do their best to protect him from hardship. They only waited for him to be able to trust them, and as he had trusted them enough to tell the tale they were making progress.

Pippin had managed to creep even closer to him. Brushing against his side as he offered silent comfort.

In a gesture of closeness that was yet a seldom occurrence from the man Faramir draped an arm around Pippin's shoulder. When he spoke it was for Pippin and yet he allowed all to hear his words.

"It might look odd to you with those other rings in it, but when I think of how much he loved me, and how much I loved him. It is beautiful."

"I think so to." Pippin brushed a gentle hand over the mail. On Faramir's other side Merry was inching closer, and Faramir reached out a hand as he welcomed the closeness he was offered. A bit unusual from the rather shy man, but very much welcomed for the same reason.

Across from them Legolas and Gimli exchanged smiles with Aragorn as they saw how skillfully two small Hobbits had drawn him into their companionship.

They had a feeling that the two little sneaky creatures would use the memory of Boromir until they had Faramir where they wanted him, as their friend.

For some reason the elf and the dwarf agreed with the man and the Hobbits, they would all help.

I think I will leave them here, for the Hobbits are growing tired, and if I do not disturb them, they might just fall asleep using Faramir for a pillow, and would not that be cute?

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who left a review on my other tales. I can not thank you enough, but I do appreciate it. Thank you all very much.

Here it must also be said that in that tale we noted that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.

Again thank you all for reading, and even more for reviewing.

/Elenhin


End file.
